


Orbit

by LSquared80



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes that take place shortly after "Waterloo."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orbit

**Orbit**

**i.**

The door to his office was locked and Ted found the key at the bottom of a pencil cup on Moira’s desk. A copy of the July 21st New York Times was folded neatly on the center of the desk. The headline – _Men Walk on Moon_ – seemed to simplify what had happened. It was miraculous; an event for the ages, and all anyone was talking about.

Everyone talked about their experience watching it – where they were, who was sitting with them, the snacks they ate. Ted’s story since he landed at JFK has been that he was on the couch flanked by his two sons, with Nan in the chair beside them, and an open bag of potato chips on the table. The truth was Ted watched from his office in LA, but everyone expected him, the pilot, to have an exciting or touching story.

He turned the key in the lock. The air inside the room was stale and he saw flecks of dust dancing in the beams of yellow sunlight coming in through the curtains. He immediately shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. He loosened the knot in his tie and released the button that held the collar tight against his throat.  

Ted picked up the phone and dialed. He closed his eyes and listened to the pattern of the ringing, each buzz before Nan answered more high pitched than the last. “It’s me,” he said.

“Are you in the hotel?” Nan asked.

He held his breath and wondered if it was audible, the telling absence of sound, on the other end of the call. “Yes,” Ted said, dragging a hand through his hair.

Nan asked about the funeral and said she had the boys say a prayer for Mr. Cooper the night before.

Ted hadn’t told her yet about the deal with McCann. “Listen, Nan,” he said, interrupting a story about the next door neighbor. “I’m not flying out tonight. They need me here.”

“Oh. The boys thought you were-”

“The man died,” Ted said, raising his voice.

He ended the call and it was no different than any call he made from the office in Los Angeles. Ted would apologize and say a client scheduled a late meeting or he had to sit in on a late call in New York. But the truth was always that he didn’t want to expend the energy to leave and go to a house that didn’t feel like home, and he’d already mixed a drink.

Ted looked at the liquor cart. It was empty. He walked out and across to Lou’s office, relieved to find the door unlocked. He rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. Ted plucked a new bottle of vodka from the bar and twisted the cap as he walked out.

The soles of his dress shoes squeaked on the floor when he came to a sudden stop. Peggy appeared around the corner, still wearing her funeral garb, and gasped. The corners of his mouth twitched into an almost-smile.

“Oh,” she said. There was a long beat of silence. “I’m not staying long.”

Ted took a step forward. “Stay as long as you want.”

Peggy looked at the bottle in his hand, her eyebrows lifting. “You drink vodka now?”

He lifted the bottle and looked at the label. “We have a lifetime supply of orange juice in the office,” Ted explained. “Pete couldn’t fix a glass without adding this and I guess…” He drifted off, knowing she didn’t really care or it didn’t really matter.

“I see.”

Ted tilted his head, his eyes landing on the slope of her shoulder, her bra peeking out from under the strap of her black dress. He had an image of standing behind her, peeling her clothes away, and bending to kiss her shoulder blade. It was something that happened in a dream, he was sure, but Ted wanted to think of it as a prediction. “I should…” He pointed the bottle in the direction of the open door.

Peggy nodded. “Me too.”

Neither one moved for a beat. Peggy stepped around him and he listened to the tap of her heels. He turned around and yelled, “Peggy, wait,” and he was louder than he needed to be in the empty space.

She stood still and then turned around.

“Do you know what I’m hearing about almost as much as the moon landing?” he asked, and she gave an imperceptible shake of her head. “Your Burger Chef pitch. I wish I had been in the room.”

Peggy looked down at the floor and he couldn’t see her eyes. She looked back up at him and smiled before turning around.

**ii.**

The elevator doors slid together, but a hand and a brown sleeve reached between them. Ted slipped on and said, “Thanks, Don.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the hum of the elevator’s ascent. Don looked at Ted and asked, “When are Nan and the kids moving back?”

Ted hitched his shoulders back. “They’re not,” he said, and quickly added, “Not right now.”

The doors opened onto their floor and Ted reciprocated Don’s gesture by letting him exit first. They walked side by side down the hall and through the doors. “The boys are already enrolled in school,” Ted explained. “It’s easier for them to stay. We’ll be bi-coastal. It works for you, right?”

Don came to a stop outside of his office. He looked at Ted and gave him an affable slap on the back. “See you in the ten o’clock meeting,” Don said, leaving Ted in the hallway while he went to sit behind his desk.

Ted made his way toward his office. He gave Moira his briefcase and when she asked if he wanted coffee, he said, “I’ve got it.”

He went to the break room with the intention of making toast, but he got distracted by the bulletin board. Someone had tacked articles about the moon landing and splashdown over the usual reminders. His boys had done the same at home, carefully cutting every mention from the newspaper. During Ted’s brief visit home, the moment he walked in the door, they couldn’t wait to show him their collection.

The small print on the newspaper began to blur. Ted wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. He turned away and began to look for the bread. He knew Peggy was nearby when he heard her laughing, and within a few minutes she was turning into the room while Stan continued down the hallway. The grin on Peggy’s face faded slowly.

“Good morning,” Ted said.

“Good morning.” She opened the fridge and put a brown paper bag inside. She opened a cabinet and rose on the tips of her toes, stretching her arm up.

Ted moved to her side and reached up. His hip bumped hers. He easily grabbed the box she was trying to reach and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to the doorway.

“Would you want to…”

Peggy looked back at him. “What?”

He sighed, his shoulders drooping. “Never mind.”

**iii.**

The executives at Burger Chef didn’t feel like they’d had the chance to properly celebrate the campaign and hiring the agency. They took the team to dinner and invited everyone to join them for drinks after. By the time Ted arrived at the bar he could tell Pete Campbell was three sheets to the wind; his hair was slicked back with sweat, his skin shined under the lights, and he was toasting to everything.

“To Bert Cooper!” he said, lifting his glass. “To the astronauts!”

Everyone clapped and Pete spotted Ted through the crowd. “To Ted Chaough!” Pete pronounced, lifting his drink and waving Ted over with his other hand. He clasped his hand over Ted’s shoulder and said, “This man was in California for eight months and never saw the beach.” He turned to Ted at that moment, spraying spit on his right cheek.

Ted wiped at his face. He locked eyes with Peggy and knew her broad smile wasn’t for him, but pretending it was made it easier to breathe in the small, smoky space.

“This man never left his desk. I began to think he’d lost his legs. All he did was-”

Ted pulled away from Pete and shouted into his ear, “Okay, that’s enough about me.”

But it wasn’t enough for Pete. While Ted ordered a drink at the bar, he peppered him with questions about aviation and the differences and similarities between it and space travel. “I don’t know, Pete,” Ted responded to almost every one of the man’s questions.

He only escaped when a fair-skinned woman with ruby red lips tapped Pete on the shoulder. Ted squeezed through the crowd. He walked the perimeter of the room. He always knew where Peggy was – in the middle of everything, being handed drinks, doling out hugs to each person who departed. He lost track of her when she slipped out of the crowd to use the restroom.

Ted downed what was left of his drink and found a table to leave the glass on. He stood still when Peggy emerged from the doorway that led down a narrow hallway. She was holding a beer, her thumbnail picking at the label. He expected her to turn away but she leaned toward him and shouted over the noise, “You never went to the beach?”

He shook his head. He watched her transfer the beer from one hand to the other. The idea of having a conversation with her was like a salve to Ted’s somber demeanor. He straightened his spine, felt lighter.

Peggy reached out and her fingers curled around his arm. Her hand was cold and wet from holding the beer and he felt it through the sleeve of his shirt. “How could you-”

Her question was interrupted when a young woman Ted didn’t know pulled on the back of Peggy’s dress and yanked her away, back into the crowd. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, still able to feel the cold, wet imprint of her hand on his arm.

**iv.**

He had to catch a five o’clock flight to LAX. Ted barged out of the elevator but slowed to a stop when he saw Peggy entering through the revolving doors. She walked up to him and he asked, “How did the meeting go?”

“Great,” she said. “We’re set to start casting next week. They want to find someone who looks like Buzz Aldrin.”

He laughed. “Of course they do.”

Peggy pursed her lips and then smiled. “Um,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I have to touch base with the team but… would you want to, um, meet me across the street?”

He felt the air drain from his lungs, his chest caving in. “I have a flight to catch,” he told her softly.

Peggy shrugged and nodded and her face twisted into something that tried to be a smile. “Of course you do,” she said. “Have a good trip.” She brushed by him.

Ted turned and watched her waiting at the elevator, tapping her foot. He dropped his chin to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He stood there a long time, feeling people circle around him from every direction, before he exited the building into the blinding sun.

**v.**

The parade for the astronauts was happening at Broadway and Park Avenue. Ted stayed in the office. It was the sort of thing he felt he should see with his sons, and they were three-thousand miles away pretending not to hate him that much for moving back to New York.

Ted stood in the doorway of his office looking out. It was eerily quiet until he heard the soft patter of footsteps. He followed the sound to Peggy’s office. He announced his presence, clearing his throat, and leaned against the doorframe.

“Hi,” she said. Ted caught her wiping the sweat from her brow and she subtly reached under her desk to deposit the tissue in the trash.

“You’re the first one back,” he told her. “How was the parade?”

“Crowded. There were police everywhere. I couldn’t get very close.”

He stepped into her office. He walked to the window and looked out. When he turned around Peggy was walking toward him, and the sun glinted off a piece of blue confetti in her hair. Ted stood in front of her and said, “You’ve got a piece of the parade in your hair.”

Peggy tilted her head down and he plucked the shiny paper away, letting his fingers purposely brush through her hair as he pulled his hand away. She lifted her head to look at him.

Ted wanted to ask if she was still interested in going across the street. He wanted to ask how much she hated him and if there was any chance they could spend the coming Christmas in Hawaii. He wanted to tell her that he’d been wrong about so many things except that he loved her. Ted wanted to explain that his marriage to Nan had essentially ended before their first flight to Los Angeles had touched the runway. But he cupped his hand to her cheek and his thumb traced a line under her bottom lip. He curled his other arm around her back and pulled her forward as he opened his mouth against hers.

Peggy’s arms were limp at her sides and Ted read it as a sign to pull away. But she reached between them, gripping handfuls of his shirt, and sought the heat of his mouth. He knew the last time he felt so alive – his heart hammering in his chest, every nerve sparked – was before he climbed out of Peggy’s bed. He walked forward, pressing her against the window ledge.


End file.
